


Embers

by Lizardbeth



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They gambled it all on Earth. And they lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Insert for _Sometimes a Great Notion_

The fire burns lower, and when Kara glances across the embers, she's somehow not surprised to see Sam is sitting there. She has no idea how long he's been there, could be minutes, could be an hour since she first lit the fire. Did he see? Does he know that she just burned her own body? If he does, she can't tell. He's staring into the fire, hunched into his coat, but she knows he knows she's there. The distance between them feels like light-years. It feels wrong, him over there, not coming near her, but after the last time, she's surprised he got this close. At least he's not running away, like Leoben did.

She can hear the waves and the brush of the wind through the tall grass, cold and chill on her face now that the fire's dwindling. She opens her mouth to break the silence, but Sam speaks first. "We brought them to this world, and it's dead." His voice is calm, almost conversational, but she can feel his grief for the people who died here and for the rest of his life that died before that.

There's nothing to say, because he's right. Once she could've said at least they had each other, but she lost that, too. He's a Cylon, and even though the bleak look on his face seems human, and even though she remembers warmth and pain and love and anger... they were never human emotions, just the pretense of them. He was never what she thought, and she never had him at all.

His eyes are still on the low flames, and he murmurs, "I thought you came back to me, I thought we could find a way out of this together... But my Kara died. I understand that now."

She flinches deep inside, realizing he _knows._ He knows she's not real. And the pain makes her lash out, "I was _never_ your Kara, because you're a lying, frakking Cylon."

He absorbs the words, a rock thrown into deep water that barely ruffles the surface, and answers softly, "I never lied to you."

She snorts. "Only that you were human."

His lips twitch in a bitter little smile. "Guess that makes two of us."

"I'm not a toaster," she hisses, "a machine, a programmed _thing..._"

Before, hurling hateful words like that at him would've hurt him, but now that little smile grows a little wider. It's disconcerting that he doesn't seem to care -- it's like she's hitting smoke. But his retort is smooth and sharp, striking to her heart with a single blow, "If you're not a Cylon, what are you?"

She freezes, thinking of the corpse still burning between them and the shattered Viper behind her in the dark. _I don't know._ That's the real answer, but she can't say it. "You're one of the precious Final Five, you tell me."

For an instant there's silence, and she watches the firelight play on his cheeks. She meant it in scorn, not expecting him to know, but now she sees a hesitation in his face, as if he's weighing telling her something. And her heart grows with a new hope that maybe he has the answer, after all.

The fire snaps, making them both start, then his gaze lifts for the first time to find hers. His eyes are colorless in the orange light, but intent. "I remember you," he murmurs. "I remember you from before this world died. I know you were there, and we were together."

The words blindside her, and she doesn't understand what he's saying. "What?" she blurts, and tries to laugh off her sudden confusion. "That's impossible. You can't remember something from two thousand years ago. And you sure as hell can't remember me."

He responds with unshakeable calm. "I do. I was playing music, and you were there. I don't know why this cycle got so frakked up, or why I don't remember anything else, but I remember that. And I think, I hope, someday, you'll remember, too." He climbs to his feet, a looming shadow licked by the fire light, and looks at her across the glowing embers of all they used to be. "You look for the differences, but that's not what's important. Human, Cylon, you, me... we're all lost and alone. We all bleed and we die and hate and we love. We're the same."

"No, we're not," she refuses it, and she knows, even as she says it, that she's wrong.

He looks wistful but resigned. "I wish it was true being a Cylon meant I could turn off my feelings. I tried," he admits, "I tried to make it stop, and turn myself into a cold _thing_ that doesn't care about you. But it didn't work; the pain didn't stop. But in a way, I'm glad of it -- pain tells me I'm alive. And when there's life, there's still a chance you could come back to me."

Though momentarily stunned by the revelation that he tried to turn off his feelings for her, by the end of his words, she's back on solid ground. "Not a Cylon. Never."

"If I didn't remember you from the past, I might believe you," he says and shakes his head a little. "But our souls are connected. I feel it, Kara, and I know you do, too, even if you're trying to ignore it right now. We found this place together - that means something. We're not done." He pauses, as if to give her a chance to insist otherwise, but she doesn't say anything. He adds, with a glance toward the water and a soft sigh, "And if not this time, maybe we'll get it right the next time around."

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. "I hope it doesn't take that long, but when you figure it out, I'll be there, Kara."

Two steps away from the fire, his form disappears into the dark. And somehow, though he's the one leaving, she has the feeling she's the one running away.

The rest of the night she watches the fire die, and she tries not to think of anything at all.

 

-


End file.
